Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist

The battlefield at the Spirit Mines had been a meat grinder for weeks. The earth was churned into a sludge of mud and gore, the air vibrating with the constant, dull thud of spell impacts and the sharp ring of steel on steel. Mystic Peak disciples in green and Azure Sword disciples in blue were locked in a stalemate of exhaustion, their hatred for one another dulled by the sheer fatigue of slaughter.

Deacon Zhou, a veteran of the Mystic Peak Sect, wiped sweat and blood from his eyes. He stood atop a small ridge, overseeing the western flank. ”Hold the line!” he bellowed, his voice hoarse. ”Their spiritual energy is fading! One more push!”

Across the ravine, an Azure Sword Deacon raised his cracked blade. ”For the Sword Ancestor! Break them!”

It was the same rhythm they had danced to for a month. Attack, retreat, regroup, die.

But then, the rhythm broke.

It didn’t start with a sound. It started with the light.

The sun, which had been dipping towards the horizon, seemed to sicken. The golden light of late afternoon didn’t fade into twilight; it bruised. A creeping, unnatural purple hue began to bleed across the western sky, spreading like ink in water. It moved against the wind, swallowing the clouds, turning them into heavy, swollen masses that looked like internal organs suspended in the heavens.

”What... what is that?” a young Azure Sword disciple whispered, lowering his weapon, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

”A weather technique?” a Mystic Peak disciple muttered, stepping back. ”Is an Elder casting a storm art?”

Then came the smell.

The battlefield always smelled of iron—the copper tang of fresh blood. But the wind that suddenly gusted from the west carried something else. It was a thick, cloying, sweet stench. It smelled of rotting flowers left on a grave for too long. It smelled of stagnant water in a crypt. It smelled of old, dried blood that had turned black.

It was the scent of corruption.

”Report!” Deacon Zhou shouted, grabbing his communication talisman. ”Western Watchtower! What is happening? Is this an Azure Sword ambush?”

Static hissed from the talisman, followed by a voice that was high-pitched and trembling with a terror that cut through the magical distortion.

”Deacon! They... they are everywhere! The sky... it’s opening! The ships... giant... bones... oh gods, the blood...!”

”Calm down! Who?!”

”Demons! It’s the Dem--”

The voice cut off with a wet gurgle, followed by a sound that made Deacon Zhou’s blood freeze—the sound of a thousand people laughing in unison, a manic, high-pitched tittering that sounded like glass breaking.

”Look!” someone screamed.

From the bruised purple clouds in the west, they emerged.

They were not the graceful flying swords of the Azure Sword Clan, nor the elegant cloud-boats of the Mystic Peak Sect. These were nightmares given form.

Massive, lumbering Arks broke through the cloud cover. The first was constructed entirely of massive, bleached bones, stitched together with dark energy, green ghost-fire burning in its eye sockets. Following it was a vessel that looked like a floating lake of blood, held aloft by a crimson barrier, with figures swimming within the gore. Then came a ship draped in pink silks that writhed in the wind, emitting a pink mist that made the eyes water.

Banners unfurled, snapping in the unnatural wind. They bore sigils that every cultivator in the State of Yue had been taught to fear in their history books, but had prayed never to see.

A skull weeping blood. A pair of intertwined, naked bodies transforming into skeletons. A rotting hand grasping a lotus.

”The State of Qin...” Deacon Zhou whispered, his sword slipping from his numb fingers. ”The Demonic Sects.”

Panic, absolute and primal, swept through the front lines. It wasn’t the orderly retreat of an army outmaneuvered; it was the stampede of prey sensing the predator.

”Run!”

”They’ve invaded! The border has fallen!”

”Retreat to the main sect! Abandon the mines!”

The discipline of both the Mystic Peak Sect and the Azure Sword Clan evaporated instantly. Disciples who had been trying to kill each other seconds ago were now running shoulder-to-shoulder, fleeing east, away from the encroaching darkness.

But the darkness was faster.

From the Bone Ark, hundreds of black coffins were launched into the air. They slammed into the ground among the fleeing cultivators like meteorites. The lids burst open, and Iron-Corpse Puppets, their skin green and hard as steel, leaped out, tearing into the disciples with bare hands.

From the Blood Ark, a rain of red droplets fell. Where they touched skin, they burned like acid.

”AAAAHHH! Help me! It’s eating me!”

The battlefield became a slaughterhouse. The metallic smell of the war was instantly overpowered by the stench of rot and the sickly sweet perfume of the pink mist rolling down from the hills. The war for the mines was over. The war for survival had begun.

Miles away, at the entrance of the concealed Iron-Root Hollow, Wang Jian stood on a rocky outcrop. He was dressed in his battle armor, his expression grave as he looked towards the west.

The tremors in the earth had reached even here. The sky above them was tinged with that sickly purple bruise.

”Husband?” Yue Lingshan stepped up beside him, her face pale. ”The ambient spiritual energy... it’s fluctuating wildly. It feels... tainted.”

Wang Jian nodded. ”Something has happened at the border. Something massive.”

He turned to the group gathered at the cave entrance. ”Lingshan, activate the Level Four defensive arrays. Seal the cave. No one goes in or out until I return. Senior Sister Chen,” he looked at Chen Ying, ”organize the Shadow Flowers. Perimeter defense only. Do not engage any unknown targets.”

”Understood, Senior Brother,” Chen Ying replied, her hand tight on her sword.

”Elder Lianhua,” Wang Jian said, his voice respectful and formal in front of his wife. ”Your experience is required. Will you accompany me to scout? Your cultivation is the highest among us; I may need your protection if we encounter high-level threats.”

Mu Lianhua, wearing a veil and a set of dignified, dark blue robes that concealed her figure, nodded gracefully. ”It is my duty, Deacon Wang. I shall accompany you.”

”Be careful, Jian,” Yue Lingshan whispered, squeezing his hand.

”I am always careful,” he promised.

Wang Jian and Mu Lianhua departed, flying low to the ground, utilizing Wang Jian’s Void-Merging Breath to render them nearly invisible against the darkening terrain. They didn’t head for the main battle; that was suicide. They headed for a high observation peak overlooking the western valley, a spot Wang Jian had scouted previously.

They landed on the peak, crouching behind a massive boulder. Wang Jian immediately set up a small concealment formation.

Then, they looked down.

Wang Jian’s eyes widened. Even with his cynicism, the scale of the invasion was shocking. The horizon was filled with the demonic armada. The sheer quantity of evil Qi rolling off the army was enough to wither the grass on the plains below.

”What in the hells...” Wang Jian muttered. ”Who are they? This isn’t a skirmish. This is an extermination force.”

Mu Lianhua stared at the banners, her eyes narrowing behind her veil. She didn’t look terrified; she looked calculating. She had ruled a sect for centuries; she knew the players of the great game, even those from neighboring states.

”The State of Qin,” she said, her voice calm but grave. ”These are the Five Great Demonic Sects.”

She pointed a slender finger at the massive ship made of stitched bone and skin. ”That is the Nether Bone Hall. They specialize in necromancy and bone-forging arts. Their disciples turn their own bodies into weapons.”

She pointed to the ship that looked like a floating lake of blood. ”The Blood Soul Pavilion. Ruthless. They cultivate by bathing in the fresh blood of cultivators. They can manipulate the blood inside a living opponent.”

”And that one?” Wang Jian asked, pointing to the ship draped in pink silks, where he could faintly see figures moving in lewd embraces on the deck.

”The Joyous Harmonious Sect,” Mu Lianhua said, a note of disgust entering her voice. ”They practice dual cultivation, but of the plundering variety. They drain the Yin or Yang of their victims until they are dried husks. They use lust as a poison.”

”And the others... the Yin Corpse Sect with the coffins... and the Ten Thousand Poison Valley with the purple banners.”

She turned to Wang Jian. ”They have come in force. This is an invasion fleet. They must have been waiting.”

”Waiting for what?” Wang Jian asked, though he already suspected the answer.

”For the State of Yue to bleed itself dry,” she explained. ”Think about it. The Crimson Pill Sect has fallen, its leadership shattered. The Mystic Peak Sect and the Azure Sword Clan have been locked in a brutal war for months, exhausting their resources and losing elders. The Hundred Beast Manor is isolated. The Silent Puppet Guild is mercenary.”

”The righteous sects are at their weakest,” Wang Jian finished the thought, a cold smile touching his lips. ”Perfect timing.”

”Indeed,” Mu Lianhua agreed. ”The demonic sects of Qin have coveted the resources of Yue for generations. But they feared the combined might of our five sects. Now? We are fractured. They smell blood.”

Wang Jian watched the carnage below. A squad of Mystic Peak disciples was being overwhelmed by a swarm of poisonous insects released by the Ten Thousand Poison Valley. It was a massacre.

”They are ruthless,” Wang Jian noted. ”Look at that attack. That black fog... it’s melting their artifacts.”

”That is the Corrosive Yin Mist,” Mu Lianhua identified. ”A specialty of the Poison Valley.”

Suddenly, a shockwave rippled through the air. A massive explosion erupted near the front lines as a Mystic Peak Elder self-detonated to stop a Blood Soul advance.

The shockwave rushed towards their observation peak, a wall of dust and shattered rock.

”Shield,” Wang Jian said calmly.

Mu Lianhua moved instantly. She stepped in front of him. Her aura flared, a brilliant azure light. She raised a hand, and a barrier of the Azure Sky-Heart Flame formed a semi-circle in front of them.

BOOM.

The shockwave hit the barrier and parted around them like water around a stone. The mountain shook, but they were untouched.

Wang Jian watched her from behind. The wind pressed her robes against her body, outlining the massive curve of her hips and the narrowness of her waist. Even in the face of an invasion, his lust was a constant companion.

He stepped closer, pressing his chest against her back. He slid his hands around her waist, under the concealment of his own cloak.

”Good reaction, Pet,” he whispered into her ear, his voice dropping the formal ’Elder’ title instantly now that they were alone.

Mu Lianhua shivered, the residual heat of her flame mixing with the heat of his body. ”Thank you... Master.”

His hands moved up, finding her massive breasts. He squeezed them hard, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive, grounding rhythm.

”Look at that chaos,” he murmured, nodding towards the battlefield while his thumbs teased her nipples through the fabric. ”Most people would see a tragedy. Do you know what I see?”

”What do you see, Master?” she breathed, leaning back into him, her body softening against his hardness.

”Opportunity,” Wang Jian grinned. ”The biggest market in the world just opened up. Chaos is a ladder, Lianhua. And these demons... they just brought a lot of loot with them.”

He fondled her aggressively, enjoying the contrast of the destruction below and the pleasure he was taking above. ”The righteous sects will be desperate. They will pay anything for pills, for arrays, for information. And the demonic sects... they will be arrogant. They will overextend. And when they die, their storage rings will be full of treasures from the State of Qin.”

He bit her neck gently. ”We are going to get very, very rich.”

”Yes, Master,” she moaned softly.

”But first,” he said, pulling away and adjusting his robes. ”We need more intel. I want to see exactly how strong their Nascent Soul ancestors are. And I want to see if the Mystic Peak Sect has any fight left in them.”

They resumed their observation.

Below, the battle was evolving. The initial panic of the righteous sects was stabilizing. Beacons of light flared from the rear lines of the Mystic Peak Sect—the signal fires of the Reserves.

”Look,” Mu Lianhua pointed. ”The Grand Elder of the Mystic Peak Sect. He has appeared.”

A figure floating on a massive, glowing sword appeared above the Mystic Peak lines. He radiated an aura that distorted the air around him—Nascent Soul.

”And there,” she pointed to the Azure Sword lines. Another figure, wreathed in blue lightning, ascended.

”The ancestors are awake,” Wang Jian noted. ”Good. Let the giants fight. We will scurry between their feet and steal the crumbs.”

He focused his gaze on the Joyous Harmonious Sect’s ship. He could see beautiful women in revealing pink silks dancing on the deck, casting spells that made the defending disciples falter, their eyes glazing over with lust before they were cut down.

”That sect...” Wang Jian mused, licking his lips. ”Their techniques utilize Yang and Yin harvesting. They must have incredible cultivation manuals for... dual cultivation.”

Mu Lianhua saw his gaze and felt a spike of jealousy mixed with resignation. ”They are depraved, Master. They drain their partners dry.”

”I don’t intend to be drained,” Wang Jian chuckled. ”But I intend to learn. And perhaps... acquire some new... staff for our harem.”

He squeezed her buttock. ”Don’t worry. You’re still the Queen. But a King needs a variety of subjects.”

He watched a while longer, analyzing the tactics. The Demonic Sects were aggressive, using fear and corruption. The Righteous Sects were defensive, relying on formations and combined attacks.

”The Silent Puppet Guild and the Hundred Beast Manor won’t sit this out,” Mu Lianhua analyzed. ”If the State of Yue falls, they lose their territory too. They will join the defense.”

”Exactly,” Wang Jian agreed. ”A four-way melee. Perfect.”

He turned away from the cliff edge. ”We’ve seen enough. The invasion is real. The threat is massive. And the opportunity is golden.”

”Let’s go back,” he commanded. ”We need to prepare the household. We need to shift our strategy. We aren’t just hunting patrols anymore. We’re going to be war profiteers.”

They flew back towards the Iron-Root Hollow.

As they landed, Yue Lingshan rushed out, her face pale. ”Jian! The sky... the messages... they say the border has collapsed!”

Wang Jian stepped forward, his face a mask of grave, righteous concern. He held her shoulders.

”It is true, Lingshan,” he said solemnly. ”The Demonic Sects of Qin have invaded. It is a calamity.”

He looked around at his assembled harem—Chen Ying, Liu Ruyan, the Shadow Flowers, the maids. They all looked terrified.

”But fear is useless,” he declared, his voice ringing with authority. ”This is simply a larger board with more pieces.”

He led them into the main cavern and unrolled a large map.

”We are shifting tactics,” he announced. ”We can no longer just hunt stragglers. The battlefield is about to become a slaughterhouse. But in a slaughterhouse, there is always meat to be found.”

He pointed to the map. ”The Mystic Peak and Azure Sword will be forced to ally, or they will die. The Demonic Sects will try to drive a wedge between them. We...” he grinned, ”...we will play all sides.”

”We will sell ’intelligence’ about the Demonic Sects to the Righteous sects,” he plotted. ”We will lure Demonic units into Righteous ambushes and loot the corpses of whoever falls.”

He looked at the Shadow Flowers. ”I want specific intel on the Joyous Harmonious Sect. Their cultivation manuals. Their cauldrons. Find them. But do not engage. They are masters of seduction; do not fall into their traps.”

”Yes, Master!” Qiu Yun said, her eyes shining.

”Lingshan,” he turned to his wife. ”Reinforce the arrays. Use everything we looted. If a Demonic Sect finds us, we need to be able to kill them instantly or flee. Make this place a death trap.”

”I will,” she vowed.

”The maids stay inside,” he ordered Li Mei. ”No exceptions. The Demonic sects will capture mortals and low-level cultivators for fuel and blood sacrifice. You are safe only in here.”

He looked at the map of the State of Yue.

”When the dust settles,” Wang Jian said softly, ”I want to be the one standing on the pile of corpses, holding the keys to every sect’s treasury.”

”Do we fight for the State of Yue?” Mu Lianhua asked quietly, playing her part of the concerned Elder.

Wang Jian looked at her, his eyes cold and hard.

”We fight for us,” he corrected. ”If the State of Yue burns, we will warm ourselves by the fire. If the sects fall, we will build our castle from their bricks.”

He paused, a thought crossing his mind. ’Ye Fan...’

’With the Demonic Sects here, a ’hero’ like Ye Fan will shine even brighter. He will be on the front lines. He will be throwing himself against the strongest demons to protect the innocent. That might be his undoing... or his ascension. I need to keep an eye on him. If he gets overwhelmed... I might just help him along to the grave.’

”Rest tonight,” Wang Jian commanded his women. ”Eat well. Cultivate. Tomorrow, the real war begins.”

The sound of distant war drums rolled over the hills, deep, resonant, and sounding like the heartbeat of a demon god. It signaled the end of the skirmishes and the beginning of the apocalypse.

Wang Jian smiled. He was ready.